The Blade of Fire and Blood
by AFrailDreamer
Summary: An eccentric girl, Elva, held in the vice-like grip of a family secret, embarks on a journey to find her place in the world. The strife and murder between her family and her ancestors' families from the sword Tyrfing unleashes a grim resolution within her. A fierce blaze enters her blood as she turns away from the comforts of rural life to meet her destiny.
1. Prologue

Recommended track: "Requiem for the Gods" by Michiru Yamane.

**Disclaimer: I do not own the elements nor the character Naga from Intelligent System's Fire Emblem series. I am not profiting from this endeavor and this story is meant for the entertainment of its readers.**** All the characters (with the exception of Naga), setting, and maps belong to me. **

* * *

_Aggersbug Fortress, Three years after the initial battle of the Hero's war began. _

"How are the men?" Leo inquired his lieutenant with hard amber eyes.

"Many are wounded, and a sense of bleakness pervades them. They believe that the end draws near, but only a few have deserted." The Lieutenant replied standing at attention in his muddied armor.

"Commander... what are your orders?" asked the soldier. The moon, a full sphere, casted light on Leo as he stared out from his position at the high point of the Aggersbug. There was a slight breeze in the air and groans of pain came from the barracks. The stone and height of the mighty stronghold made it an easy to defend position, however it would take more to repel a supernatural army than advantageous conditions.

"Many sacrifices have been made, and yet that will not enough. More will come to pass. I wonder if the gods think this a bloody spectacle?" Leo briefly paused and shook his head.

"Sir..."

"Lieutenant, relay this to the men: I can not ask anymore of ye nor do I have heart to. Those who wish to stay may stay and those who wish to flee may flee. My friends and comrades in arms shall stay here. We will hold this ground to the last of our life-water" he commanded.

The Lieutenant nodded and walked into the main building to relate what Leo had told him, while another figure emerged from the dark hall. The man walked up to Leo.

"Hello, my friend. What a bewitching sight the moon is on this night." The man said staring at the veil of night in admiration.

"Indeed Voelsung. But here we are, at the end of days. Mankind about to be extinguished and the great powers do naught but watch, amusing themselves with our suffering." Leo bitterly remarked.

"Leo, I'm sure the Gods have their reasons. We must persevere. We can not build a future with a commander devoid of hope, or a vision. Please, join me, Narmer, Lagertha, and Baldr in prayer. It will surely placate your mind, and gift one us the wisdom to endure these troubled times. The three of them are already in the sanctum waiting for you anyway." Voelsung asked with a weak smile.

"Very well" Leo said and the two strolled silently through the grey stone halls to a sanctum inside the mighty fortress.

Voelsung mused as he walked with his friend, _Gods, the fates of all rests here in Aggersbug. We can't hold for long. _

Voelsung chuckled,

"O the irony. Just three years ago man was spread wide and far and but now, here we are. Driven into a corner of the continent like livestock set upon by wolves. Before this war started, we were all in constant skirmishes between the city states. Who could fathom the calamity we call Fafnir?" Voelsung said.

"I think it, in part, is reward for our constant wars. Fools we all were until the dragon and his army appeared and sacked Byydr."

"The great powers can not all be so harsh. Goddess Eir is known for her great mercies on many. And Vili, he taught the first of men the crafts."

"Yet here is Fafnir. Retribution for our follies."

"Indeed. Even with such a threat it took a few moons for the fighting to stop. But heed what I am about to say: If not for the terrible beast I would not have met you, nor the others. This wouldn't all be for naught." Voelsung remarked in a warm smile. Leo's countenance remained stoic.

The two friends then happened on the heavy, wooden sanctum doors. They pulled the metal handles to reveal a room. The room had a stone altar altar, some simple benches lining the walls, murals, and tapestries. There was an oculus in the room which let moonlight shine down in front of the Altar to bath the priest in its light. This accented his attire of elaborate white robes trimmed with gold in it's blue light. Scattered around the room were candles giving the room a dim light in addition to rays from the white orb in the sky.

"Ah many salutations Leo. Sit and I shall lead our prayer" said Baldr, the priest, in an even, serene voice

Voelsung took his seat with an to an exotically robed, tan man to this left and Leo took the seat to Voelsung's right. Sitting down, Leo's mind began to drift. He stared off into a mural depicting Loktyr's children pursuing deities of day and night. Their fangs seemed to almost enclose Sigleif and Gullveig. The irony of the mural made a huff escape him before Baldr began the his prayer:

"Blessings unto we who are Yngvi's children, by the grace and power of Woedin the Wise and the Mercy of Eir, through the endless cycles of Sigleif and and Gullveig's chariots. Guide us! Guide us to a land meadows and pasture, to a land where we may not live in fear for Locktyr's designs. We who have kept thy customs foremost in our minds. Never will Eir turn us away. Never will the Wise Father nor Mother of the Night's wisdom fail us. If it pleases ye hosts of the ever green field, Vangr, grant us thy protections!" Baldr said, the ardor in his voice rising as he spoke the prayer. The other four warriors followed in unison after the priest.

As the prayer finished, Baldr was about to begin his sermon when a bright orb appeared illuminating the sanctum and blinding the five. They shielded their eyes from the intense light, which glowed an intense yellow-green. After a few moments the light coalesced into the form of a bright-faced woman. The clothes the woman wore were like what none had seen before. Layers of thin pale pink cloth was wrapped around her waist and upper body, almost blending in the the dress she wore. The woman's shoulders were bare save the impossibly long, greensand hair that was draped over them and a crown sat on her head. The crown was gold and had what appeared to be fangs pointing downward in an array around her head. It was a moving sight. The display had shocked the group and they were speechless.

The woman spoke: "I am Naga, a messenger sent from the Gods. Your burdens and trials are great and we have heard your prayers. The cries of despair and pain will be no more. I come to bring gifts to repel Fafnir." The onlookers immediately stood up and kneeled before the messenger from the Gods.

"Divine Naga, what gifts have you come to present us with?" Lagertha questioned.

"Stand chosen ones." Naga commanded and all stood to face her.

"Two gifts I shall bring. Holy artifacts forged on Vili's anvil alongside the tomes written by Woedin and Gullveig. The second is my flesh. I shall carve out my still beating heart and place it on a platter. Each of ye five are to partake in it as it quivers on the plate." Naga replied.

"Surely you do not suggest such a thing! To commit a heinous deed in this holy place my lady!" Voelsung exclaimed, clearly uncomfortable with the prospect of a suicide and consumption of divine being.

"Quiet! She knows her place and her duty that has been ordained to her. You may have reservations but we serve the people before ourselves. Partake for that which you took oath to do in your power, Voelsung!" Narmer shouted clearly frustrated by Voelsung's hesitation.

"Do not be sad. If my sacrifice can save mankind I will gladly offer my body to deliver ye from the Dragon." Naga said in a beautiful, soothing voice. The goddess walked forward to Leo and materialized a thick, heavy, intricately decorated tome.

"To you, Leo, Gleipnir, a tome of freezing wind to bind Fafnir in place" Naga said handing the book to Leo.

"I and my descendants shall always remember your sacrifice" Leo replied wistfully.

Naga turned and walked to the shield maiden, Lagertha.

"To you, Lagertha, Balmung, a sword of light. It is lighter than silk and stronger than steel to pierce Fafnir's heart with." Naga said presenting Lagertha with a sword that appeared in her hands. The sword was beautifully inlaid with various metals and runes.

"A shame I can not hope to repay this favour Naga." Lagertha remarked softly, knowing that the woman before her would soon be a corpse. Naga smiled and began to softly hum as she walked. Though she did not sing the song enchanted its listeners, especially Voelsung.

"To you, Narmer, Surtr, the all consuming flame, to char Fafnir's flesh with." Naga said as she passed a great, leather bound tome to Narmer.

"It is with great honor that I and my friends here accept these tokens of kindness" Narmer reciprocated in a solemn manner.

Naga resumed humming as she approached Baldr before giving him his gift.

"To you, Baldr, Gjallarhor, the embodiment of Mathni's power. This tome was created by sealing Mathni's hammer onto parchment creating this tome" Naga laid out as she gave

"I must voice my unease with consuming your heart, but what has been ordained will be done as directed" Baldr said mentally preparing himself for the deed to be done next.

Tension in the room built as Naga approached the youngest of the five, Voelsung. He couldn't bear to look at the woman whose heart he and his friends were about to consume out of guilt and simply stared off to the side with a troubled expression.

"Dear child, I appreciate the kindness of your soul and I beseech you to accept this heartfelt gift of mine: Tyrfing. A sword I forged myself from the purest flame on Vili's anvil and this" Naga said procuring a burnished copper-red amulet and tying it round Voelsung's neck before beginning to kneel.

"Consider it a memento if you will, kind hearted one."

"I can not have you kneel before me it is I who should kneel before you." Voelsung said kneeling.

Naga then kneeled to the same level and put the sword Tyrfing and putting the sword still sheathed in his hands. Voelsung continued to frown, still struggling with his conscience.

Naga paced about, grabbing a silver platter and placing it in the center of the stone altar.

She stabbed her right hand into her chest to where her acorn-drum beated. With pain, she quickly ripped it out and placed it onto the now bloodied platter before collapsing.

The heroes, even Voelsung, walked with grim determination to the platter, Naga's heart still quivering. They tore at the raw organ, bloodying their mouths. When the taste of Naga's blood and flesh touched their tongues the five heroes gained newfound wisdom and abilities. Each was able to understand the speech of birds and learnt new magicks to close wounds, loose fetters, and renew strength.

This event became known as Miracle at Aggersbug or Naga's Descent. With holy power and divine blood flowing in each of their veins, the heroes rode out from Aggersbug. The war's tide turned. The unholy legions beaten back, culminating with the final showdown between The Five and Fafnir. Narmer, Baldr, Leo, Lagertha, and Voelsung prevailed allowing peace to return to the land.

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I have maps illustrating Midland linked on my profile, for reference. Many thanks to all who lent me a hand in the editting process. This piece would not have been possible without the support I got from others around me.


	2. Chapter 1

Recommended track: "Arni Village (Another World)" by Yasunori Mitsuda.

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_(__The second month in the Midland calendar, year 644 after the Hero's War; Skaennin, Aachen, Austraien.)_

"Mmm," she murmured in bed, her eyes still in the midst of dream ding[1]. A more extravagant breakfast lay in store for her because today would mark her seventeenth year. Elva thought for a moment about her routine as she opened her piercing emerald eyes. _I'll wake up, draw water from the well, go out hunting with Father, and receive a gift of some sort because it's my birthday._

"Sister, wake up!," a young girl called near Elva's bed.

"Just a moment!" Elva replied trying to savor the warmth of her blankets.

"Please do hurry along though with waking. I would much appreciate eating sooner rather than later."

"Just give me a little time!"

The warmth of the blankets was a very welcome friend to have during the winters of Skaennin. Winters were usually not this brutal but the recent years have been especially chilling, but at least there was snow, which Elva used to have a love as a child for its evanescent fluffiness and beauty. Elva's long, brown hair was rather tangled at the moment, from the tossing and turning she did during the night, but a few strokes of a comb and some ties could keep her hair within tolerable limits. She slid out of bed a proceeded with strokes of her comb and tied it back with a sigh. _I really don't look like mother do I? _Elva thought as she finished combing her hair. _My slender, fair, flaxen-haired, perfect mother. _Elva let out a second, drawn out sigh. It didn't help that her perfect ladylike sister, Rendir, was just like her mother in many respects. The constant comparisons drawn between the two just added to the anxiety. _Truly I am the queer one though. I don't resemble Father or Mother much. _

With that Elva continued to her wardrobe and took out her normal work clothes. The clothing consisted of an apron-skirt, a shawl, a linen dress, and a tunic. Her dress was fairly short, ending slightly above her ankles (she was outdoors oft for her work) which earned her looks of disapproval from some of the women in town, but it was appropriate dress for more physical labor like field work or hunting.

"Good morning Elva." Her mother, Eyfa, greeted as she entered Elva's sight.

"Yes good morning to you, mother." Elva replied in turn.

"Today marks your seventeenth year, correct?" Eyfa remarked, in a detached tone,

"Indeed, today is my seventeenth winter. Mother, may I inquire as to what breakfast awaits us today?"

Elva's face brightened in anticipation for the answer.

"Elva, you know how I feel about such behavior. Ladies ought to be disciplined in areas such as self control. Constant incessant questioning will make others irritated by you. How will you ever get a suitor if all you do is interrogate them and scare them away with things like archery and associating with that Hjoermul? You'd do well to learn from your sister, Rendir."

A slight frown formed on Elva's countenance at her mother's admonishing.

"Yes mother... I'll remember to think on others before asking a question"

"Good, I'll humor you because of what today is. Yesterday your father set out for Herault to buy some food from the marketplace. He returned to us at dusk with honeyed pork. Be thankful he takes the pains every year to bring feasting food for a brute like you."

Elva fell silent at the particularly scathing remark and began to walk towards the kitchen. There at the kitchen her sister and father sat in a crude chairs along with some bowls and spoons set on a round wooden table.

"Oh finally! I can't wait for the pork!" Rendir chirped at the prospect of breakfast.

"Now, now. We still need to wait for your mother to take her seat" reassured Ovarr with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh good to see you Papa! I wonder what this day will bring. Perhaps today I shall shoot a rabbit from thirty _fathrs[2]_ away",

Elva beamed as she was talking to her family.

"Well farthest you've hit anything was a deer twenty-five fathrs away." and a deep resounding laugh came from Ovarr.

"Well here comes your mother, thank Eir[3] that we didn't have to wait too long for her to finish."

Right as Ovarr finished his sentence his wife brought a pot of porridge to the table and Elva took her seat across from her father. Smells from the pot lingered in the air. Bits of honey mixed in with some blueberries and cream came from the pot. Eyfa took each bowl and filled the bowls with a few scoops of her ladle starting with Rendir's bowl and finishing at Elva's. While Eyfa was busied herself filling bowls with porridge, a young thrall[4] came and brought a plate with the pork that had been cooked on a spit roast. The meat was seasoned in honey, black mustard, and vinegar while on the sides there were onions and wild mushrooms that had been honeyed and braised. It was a spectacle for the eyes to Elva.

"Bjoern would you like to join me and Elva later for a hunt?" Ovarr asked.

"Why of course master", came Bjoern's reply.

As the two men were exchanging pleasantries, Rendir was visibly smiling to the thought of the wonderful flavors that awaited her. Ovarr was also visibly pleased with the smells and a pleasant expression had planted itself on Elva's face as the family prepared for their morning meal. When Eyfa finished filling everyone else's bowls she filled her own and took her seat across from Rendir. Everyone looked poised to begin eating and Rendir took that as her cue to lift her spoon, but her father stopped her saying,

"Patience Rendir. Helge should be coming any moment now with the dried apples and cheese." Rendir obediently put her spoon down and waited with the rest of the family when her mother shot a look of annoyance towards Ovarr and gave him a request.

"Dear, please allow us to eat. Rendir has been patiently waiting for breakfast longer than Elva has and you know how thralls are. Especially that one." Eyfa pleaded intending to maybe convince Ovarr to allow breakfast to begin.

"It will only be a short while. There's no harm in waiting a few minutes when the journey to bring these whittles was hours. And might I remind you that these thralls are also the descendants of Yngvi[5]"

Ovarr had no intention of going back on his stance to wait until Helge brought the dried apples and cheese so the family sat at the table patiently waiting for the last of the food to be brought. The middle aged man did make his way to the kitchen after a few minutes with his usual scowl and set the pot of dried apples and basket of cheese on the table.

"Thank you Helge. I think that today should be lighter work for both you and Bjoern because it is Elva's Birthday. I merely ask you to chop a little bit of hearth wood and prepare the hunting equipment, you may return to your quarters after that lest I nor my wife have need of you. Now, I believe it is time to break our morning fast. Elva, if you would."

Helge then troded off to do as his master had asked with a snarl on his face when he was sure no one would see it.

Elva immediately took her spoon and scooped out some porridge on it and carefully blew on it a little bit before having a taste. The porridge almost burnt her tongue but it tasted heavenly to her. With bits of of some cream, oats, and honey and a blueberry along with a few bits of crushed hazelnut in the mixture. Ovarr then began to cut portions of the pork for his family, giving Elva a slightly bigger and leaner cut of meat that had a bit of dangling fat at an end.

"Bjoern, the spiced mead please. I'd like you to join in on our little toast to our lady's seventeenth year as well." Ovarr commanded.

Bjoern poured mead into the everyone's cups but did not pour any into his own.

"Bjoern it's my birthday today. I must insist that you at least enjoy some of this mead with me on my birthday, if not I'll give you a cut of the pork.", Elva offered, somewhat disappointed that her friend still felt the class divide between them on a happy occasion like today.

"But my lady, I'm a thrall."

"Yes, but you were my playmate growing up and my protector. So can you at least humor me and drink with the rest of us? You needn't drink very much, just some, if only for me. Please?" Elva asked while a making pleading face at Bjoern.

"Oh that's not fair. You know I can't resist when you do that to me."

So Bjoern grabbed a cup and poured the alcohol into his cup and they all drank together.

When everyone had finished their breakfasts and Ovarr finished giving the thralls their meals Elva wanted to know what sorts of gifts would she get today.

"Say Papa, know you what sort of presents are in store for me?"

"Three gifts you shall receive today. But good luck getting what they are out of me before it is their proper time to be given." Ovarr responded chuckling slightly at the end and then he continued.

"When we go hunting that's when you shall receive them."

"When do we go hunting then?" ask Elva in the same cheerful manner a child would.

"Now, now I know you'll finish bringing back water before I finish doing the repairs for some fences but it wouldn't be too long. I promise." Ovarr said as his lips curled a bit at the ends to form a smile.

Elva then proceeded with her daily chore of taking a bucket to the local well and drawing water and then coming home to pour the water into a wash basin in the house until it was full. The work wasn't terribly hard but it could be quite monotonous at times. There frankly was not as much work to do during the winter season. It was too cold to grow anything and not enough sunlight so Elva would usually just draw water or look for wood to chop. Soon enough she finished her chore and her father was done replacing some fencing.

"Ah ready to go hunting are we little Thur[6]? Ovarr said teasing his daughter slightly.

"Oh yes of course O great giant[7]" Elva replied in an equally joking manner.

"Oh yes also Bjoern wouldn't be joining us. Something came up and I had to have him stay behind to attend to it in my place."

"Oh, that's too bad. I guess it's just the two of us."

The two gathered their sacks with arrows, knives, and their bows. Ovarr grabbed his javelin but Elva noticed something was amiss: where was her cudgel? Elva's brow furrowed. _How could Bjoern have forgotten to put this in our pack? Surely he couldn't have... _

Ovarr, as if he sensed her confusion reassured her, saying "Don't worry my dear. Let's head off for the forests of Skaennin," but the playful, wiry smile he gave her betrayed his intentions. Elva couldn't help but smirk and retort with, "Oh you sneaky dastard."

While walking towards the forest on a dirt road a short ways from Skaennin village, Elva spotted a great, auburn woman walking to the forest for hunting as well. Ovarr then started a brisk walk towards the woman and Elva too started accelerating her pace but not after noticing the two had exchanged a whisper, giggle, and smiles. The woman then gave him a bashful elbow. As Elva got closer she noticed two packages: the one on top was long and thin and the other below it was square shaped. The sounds of metal clinking slightly could be heard from the square package. The red-haired woman turned around to face Elva when the girl was a few feet behind her.

"Why hello and happy birthday Elva. Wonderful day for you isn't it?" the woman said with a genuine, warm smile.

"Wonderful day it has been for me Hjoermul!"

Elva exclaimed although, on the inside she was quite giddy, she tried her best to contain her enthusiasm so she unconsciously held her breath in excitement as Hjoermul gave Ovarr the square package and began to unwrap the long thin one to unveil a light lance with sharp steel point at the end. Elva graciously accepted the spear and stared in awe at the way the light bounced off the point.

"Oh I'll treasure this for years to come even if the point rusts brick red!" Elva said grateful for the gift.

"Now that's not the only gift Ovarr has for you and, listen to this, the lance was my idea." Hjoermul replied with a wink.

"Now if you ladies are done plotting something, I suspect, happy birthday treasured lass of mine" Ovarr responded and let the weight of the metal shirt unfold as he held it by the shoulders. The mail was a fine work of craftsmanship that glinted in view of Sigleif's[8] wheel and Elva was imagining the occasions when perhaps she could don the armor.

"Do join us for supper, my lady. We both insist, right Elva?" Ovarr said offering dinner for Hjoermul.

"Father, you don't even need to ask me if I'd like her to stay for supper" Elva replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I think it well enough today though your wife does is quite "keen" on my company" Hjoermul said in a sarcastic tone.

"Bah, off with the both of ye. I'll take the mail and lance to Bjoern. Do ye not have a boar or some other poor dust-gatherer to kill?" Hjoermul said dismissing the pair.

The two continued walking along the dirt path towards the forest when Ovarr fell into their usual routine with a smile:

"So my, lovely, would you like to hear a story?"

"Why sure. Will it be another one of your war stories?" Elva said intent on hearing another one of his embellished tales again.

"It is... something of that. It is a tale of brave heroes and villains. A tale of strife between brothers. A tale in the histories of Frankreich. The tale of Sigor Beaumont." Ovarr replied in a sage like manner.

[1] _dream ding _Sleep; A ding is a type of political assembly at an appointed time hence "dream ding"

[2] One fathr is about 1.9 meters. So in Elva's case this would translate to a hitting a target from about 190 feet away.

[3] A bond slave

[4] The goddess of Benevolence and medicine, Eir. She has the power of life and death.

[5] The god of order and prosperity, Ygnvi. He is also credited with creating mankind.

[6] The god of strength and battle, Thur.

[7] Thur in a folk story supposedly had a contest with a giant and rather than taking the giants head when he bested the giant, he made the giant his travel companion.

[8] The goddess of victory, archery, and day. She was also Buldur's wife.

* * *

Random author note: Funny little story while I was writing the meal portion of the chapter. I actually got quite hungry and proceeded to actually go to a local store to buy some fruit to make the porridge in the manner that I thought fit the description I wrote. I didn't think it'd taste as good as it did (probably cognitive bias at work).


	3. Chapter 2

Recommended track: "To the Farthest Lands" by Kou Ohtani

* * *

"Oh tell me!" Elva said as she gave Ovarr a playful shove.

"Now, now. I'm not as youthful as I used to be my dear. Be gentle to these old bones of mine." Ovarr responded with a chuckle.

"As for the story: to truly appreciate the tale of Sigor Beaumont it is necessary to understand the founding of Frankreich. Many years after Fafnir was vanquished, the land, later known as Frankreich, was abandoned by man. The dwarves in the meantime, had set up homes there while mankind fled from the monster. The dwarves called their country Elphame and although it was not very large, there was plenty of food to eat. The dwarves also mined many metals. They were a race known for the art of metal shaping. After the Heroes War, one of Voelsung's great-great-grandsons, Svafr Voelsung lead a contingent of people out of Hoddeim[1]. Their journey was treacherous. High peaks to scale, thick forests, and dank swamps, but they pressed on. The settlers finally came upon land they could call their own. Seeing the green landscape with its luscious trees and abundance, they called the place Vinland. The dwarves, who had settled the area in the absence of humans, at first tolerated and even welcomed the travellers with open arms. They feasted together in each others halls and drank mead merrily. This tranquility did not last long. Greed took root in the hearts of the settlers.

In their greed, the humans came to desire the land and metals and all things the dwarves owned. So two generations later, the humans formed a plot to kill Mthsognir, the dwarfish king and invited him to a feast in their halls. They insisted this time that Mthsognir come with few men because it was a private celebration between the _gudir__[2]_and king. The king obliged and dined with Starkad Voelsung, Svafr's grandson, when armed men surrounded the hall.

Now, Mthsognir was trained in the ways of metal, and he smelt iron from outside the hall. The king understood his fate, but he was undaunted. He asked Starkad,

"Since your hall is decorated in splendid spears and the benches are graced by bows, how about a contest of strength? A friendly match between fellow friends."

"Very well we shall see who will overcome whom," Starkad replied whilst scheming how he would make the match end in Mthsognir's "accidental" death or perhaps break an arm of his.

"The two faced off in the middle of the hall and Starkad stood two spans taller than the dwarf. The difference between the two was further made clear when he had to hunch over to assume their starting positions. When the combatants were ready, a horn was blown and the match began. Mthsognir threw off Starkad's hands and proceeded to grab hold of his shoe-holders[3]. With great exertion he raised them causing the other end of the shoe-holders to fall. The latter was rather stunned, seeing this display of strength coming from such a small dwarf. Mthsognir then twisted the man's ankles in haste, which raised a scream. Seeing their leader being overcome by a mere dwarf, the men in the hall set themselves upon Mthsognir and his dwarves."

"Though their fates were already decided, Mthsognir and his company fought valiantly. Mthsognir himself felled three men with his bare hands. When all but the King had tasted the blood-needles of Starkad's warriors, Mthsognir was brought in fetters before Starkad.

Starkad said: "I can not have your life ransomed with the Yngvi's hair[4]. Bring me a knife and anyone who dares may cut out Mthsognir's heart. I will give a triple portion of this armlet to the one who does the deed." He held up an armlet crafted in gold and with runes engraved upon it.

"Strife-metal you will have Starkad, and strife you have brought upon your hall!" Mthsognir said before a man began to cut his heart out. He laughed and laughed as his heart was cut out. Never a speck of fear in any fiber of the dwarf's being before he fell to Lockheim's sleep.

"From there the men of Vinland rode out to take what they felt was theirs and Starkad lead them with his familial heirloom, Tyrfing, drawn in hand. The warriors razed Elphame and painted the land with blood of every living dwarf they saw. However in the midst of the chaos Starkad happened upon two dwarves called Dwalin and Durin. The dwarves wore animal skins and the one called Durin held a bow and three arrows. They both held some small knives as well. The two were standing in front of a stone slab altar and were in the midst of a ritual. Nearby, there was the corpse of a dead raven. It's tiny throat had been slit and next to it was a stone bowl with some fresh blood inside. On closer inspection the altar had blood sprinkled on it. The dwarves saw Starkad approach and turned to face their altar.

The two began to chant:

"Hear us, Vithar, O silent one.

Witness this vow, Locktyr and Mathni,

that we confirm by pouring out our life water,

The destruction of the Voelsung halls

wrought by the blood-needle forged by Naga.

Vithar will not be satisfied before

three brave men are felled by the sword.

Until then, the point must always touch blood

lest three brave men have fallen. "

"What foul magicks do you summon, dwarves? I think that you wish to test this flame borne blade! Come!" Starkad responded to the curse, sneering as he approached the pair, with Tyrfing drawn.

Before the Voelsung could make his way to the pair Durin fired three arrows into the distance and then two fell on their own knives.

Vikar, Starkad's brother, found Starkad right after the dwarves had died. He said, "Brother, I believe the subjugation of these lands is complete. We may now sit in a hall and discuss the details of administrating the lands and dividing Mthsognir's treasures"

"Indeed let us go gather the men and break rings and armlets among-" Starkad stopped and felt his hand, still holding Tyrfing, being drawn to Vikar. Moments after, the sword sprang, with Starkad, and the point pierced his brother's throat.

"Eir bestow mercy unto me! The dwarves' curse has struck and I have gifted my brother a death-blow with Tyrfing. Foul day, frightened soul, faint heart have I! Wickedness has fallen on me today."

This was the beginning of the destruction of the Voelsung clan. Vikar's death drove a wedge between his sons and Starkad's. Treachery ensued. Uncles schemed to tear nephews asunder and brothers murdered brothers. The conflict ultimately destroyed both sides except for those carrying the name Wyrmskol and Beaumont.

"What was so important about Frankreich's founding to the tale of Sigor Beaumont though?" Elva asked confused why her father had gone on such a tangent.

"Patience, patience. Now I'll tell you the tale of Sigor Beaumont. A tale from my days as a warrior and my passage to manhood.

Many years ago during the reign of King Knut, I was a young boy out voyaging to become a man. A fresh boy traversing the earth, barely in my sixteenth year. I happened upon a small village in Lyon district."

_Year 623, 21 years earlier a small village close to the Lyon-Agen border_

_A young Ovarr was walking through the dirt roads of a small village. The village was very small, and on the impoverished side. Strangely there were no young men in the hamlet. As Ovarr continued walking he overheard an argument between an elderly gudir and a warrior. The two were arguing outside the Gudir's hall. Clearly the warrior was at his wit's end, with a look of intent in his eyes, but the gudir returned the look with his own eyes of hard steel._

"_Sir, I ask that you spare our village. We have no involvement in your blood feud. We are few in number compared to your clan's many. This district isn't even yours to begin with. There is hardly enough to spare amongst ourselves. What can we possibly offer your men?" The elder man asked, trying to dissuade the younger man in a civil tone._

"_If you do not allow us passage nor allow my men to rest here I shall consider you in league with a shameless Beaumont. Consider yourself warned. You have one day's time before I bring my men here and pillage what we desire whether it is bright metal or satisfying ourselves on women," The warrior retorted and galloped off on his warhorse._

"_Foolhardy death-bringer. Such grudges will only add to residents to Lockheim" the gudir murmured. Then he noticed a young man standing at the opposite side of the road, who just watched the exchange._

"_Lad, I suggest that you not stay here long if you intend on spending a night. Those Wyrmskol's are at it again with the Beaumonts." the old man heaved a sigh before looking off into the distance with a weary expression._

"_Sir, surely you will not capitulate to Wyrmskol demands. It's madness." Ovarr replied in fashion._

"_What do you suggest? This decrepit village has been hounded by these dogs for decades. I care not for, Beaumonts, Wyrmskols, or what have you. All I want is to be able to live out my life on this piece of Vinland." The gudir spoke as he leaned on his cane._

"_A confrontation with the carrion feeders wouldn't be an option here would it? I have not seen a single man out here besides young boys and older men." Ovarr observed._

"_Of course not. The able bodied men have been conscripted repeatedly through the years and many have not returned. The ones that are here are needed to tend the fields."_

"_Then perhaps I can settle this with a duel. He will not deny a boy's challenge, and if I am to fall, it will not be a lose for your village since I am but a passing traveller."_

_The gudir thought on Ovarr's proposal. He nodded slightly in approval and said,_

"_Well spoken boy, what is your name? My name is Haakon, son of Tore, and I am gudir of Olso."_

"_I am Ovarr, son of Gantyr. I hail from Sappula, in Reims district. How unfortunate that we meet under such circumstances is it not Haakon?"_

"_Hmph, You're quite far from Neustrainen province. I suppose You're in the midst of your drengir[5] are you not?"_

"_Indeed I am, however it is more important that this extortion of your village stop."_

"_Quite right, allow me to invite you, Ovarr son of Gantyr, to stay in my hall then before you seek out this duel with Skalk."_

"_I graciously accept your show of hospitality. Thank you."_

_Ovarr walked into the longhouse and was treated to a simple dinner with the Haakon family consisting of Haakon and his wife, a daughter, and an infant grandson around a small, round table. The meal was simple. Consisting of some radishes, potatoes, and cuts of lamb. Ovarr was reticent during the meal, as custom in Frankreich dictates that guests show good cheer to their hosts, but to be silent unless the host speaks, lest they be seen a fool and an irritation._

_When all had their fill of the food and only Haakon and Ovarr remained seated at the table. Haakon then gave Ovarr an inquisitive look asking,_

"_Have you need of anything whether it is a helmet, mail, or blade? I still have my equipment from when I used to raid ships at sea."_

"_I lack need of any items to bring to my appointment. Frankly, mail is something I have never handled so I would prefer to not have it, but I do require a whetstone."_

"_Very well, it shall be given."_

_With the whetstone Ovarr set off to sharpening the edge on his axe and shield. The process was lengthy but Ovarr knew it would be the key to his victory. He also took the moment to shine his helmet and once it was done to his satisfaction he took rest in a barn outside the hall._

_The next day at sunrise Ovarr was treated to a simple breakfast before he headed out to wait at the hamlet entrance for Skalk and his men to arrive. Haakon went out with Ovarr, but he stood by the local well a good distance away. Ovarr leaned against the wooden poles awaiting the Wyrmskol men. After an hour's long wait, they arrived. The great gallop of warhorses could be heard clear as the shriek of a rabbit when the horses were 40 fathrs away. Twenty men armed in bright shields, helms, and all sorts of other furnishings approached the hamlet and dismounted. Ovarr stood up, staring, all the while, at Skalk with resolve. Ovarr's stare was fierce and the men could not ignore the look._

"_Say, Skalk think you the boy o'er yonder is wetting his trousers right now at the sight of us?" said one of the men accompanying Skalk._

"_Perhaps he thinks himself to be the one who tends your house?" another suggested._

"_Boy, why do you give us carrion-feeders such a glare?" Skalk said as he strode to the village._

"_I seek an appointment with you, Skalk, warrior of the Wyrmskols." Ovarr evenly replied._

"_Do you merely wish to become fertilizer for the ground so soon?" Skalk said, indignant that he must accept this challenge lest his honor be damaged._

"_Will you accept my proposition or not? I think a warrior of your stature should be able to soundly defeat a boy lest you be one to neigh like a mare in your quarters!"_

"_I will have your head soon enough small one! I accept. Where shall we duel?"_

"_A small clearing within a nearby field. A few hundred fathr from the village. We shall begin on your ready."_

"_Before we leave, if I should triumph, will you give your word that your men will leave this settlement immediately?"_

"_Fine boy, let it be so. Should I win this town will have much in services and strife metal to offer."_

_"You, frail man by the well! Prepare the grounds for me and this boy here!" Skalk barked at Haakon._

_Ovarr gave Haakon a quick look and Haakon went back to his hall and came out wooden posts and a coil of thick rope._

_Skalk walked with his companions to the dueling ground while Ovarr walked with Haakon. When all parties arrived at the appointed field, Haakon took a small stick and drew a rough circle in the dirt. With some posts and rope the dirt circle became a ring. Ovarr stepped inside and faced Skalk with the sun behind his head._

"_Too late to run off boy. I hope you'll enjoy the taste of dirt." Skalk announced, smirking at the thought of an easy challenge._

_Ovarr remained silent and only shot a glare of controlled disdain. The two donned their equipment and Haakon asked both combatants if they were ready and when both nodded their heads in consent he blew his horn to signal the start._

_Right from the start Skalk charged with his shield and sword in front. Ovarr leapt away to the left to avoid the getting skewered and attempted a hack at Skalk's side which was brushed aside with a clang by Skalk's shield. The contact with the metal shield rung in Ovarr's hand with some pain at the force Skalk used to block the attack. Skalk, seeing Ovarr temporarily stunned brought his sword in a strong, downwards slash which met his shield and cracked part of it before continuing and making a shallow cut at his thigh. Skalk swung again, encouraged by the blood he saw to continue but Ovarr deflected the blow with his axe and kicked Skalk away to provide himself a measure of distance. The blow only caused a grunt out of Skalk and some irritation. The two then continued their affair, with Skalk pressing forward and little by little bearing down on Ovarr's shield and giving him little wounds here and there until there were lacerations on his arms and side. Though no major blow had been dealt Ovarr's stamina was diminishing. He breathed heavily knowing that it took all his willpower and strength to deflect what would have been mortal blows, Skalk was also beginning to tire from the combat but he was not breathing as raggedly as Ovarr was. In what was a display of arrogance Skalk commended the boy, saying:_

"_Boy, you've done quite well for yourself lad. How unfortunate a fate the norns[6] have given you!", and plunged his sword at the boy. Skalk had made a fatal error. When he made the stab he did not raise his shield, neglecting his defense. The boy sensed the opportunity and summoned the last bit of his strength, in desperation, and rolled over. He then brought the edge of his shield down on Skalk's left foot. A sickening crunch could be heard as bone was crushed by the metal rim of the broken shield. The man yelped in pain and answered with a sloppy slash that was easy to avoid and exposed his arm to a bite from the axe. A scream of pain followed._

_The men gaped at what they knew to be the end. Skalk's grip on his sword had weakened and his life's water began to leak out of the wound in considerable quantity. Within the span of a moment Ovarr brought the boss of his shield to the arm he had just slashed at bringing excruciating pain to Skalk and tackled him to the ground. Man and metals came down. As Ovarr had the older man pinned, he took a look into the face of the man he was about to end. A scowl of anger had firmly entrenched itself in the warrior's expression. The boy took the wound-hoe of Skalk and sheathed it in Skalk's torso without a flinch._

"_I will be avenged! Mark my words foolish brat!" Skalk bellowed before laying to rest. Ovarr stood up and grabbed his axe along with the remnants of his shield and walked towards Haakon exhausted and bloodied. His tunic was stained with a mix of his blood and his victim's along with much of the dirt and dust that had been kicked up in the fighting. His expression contrary to his clothes had relaxed itself into a content, small smile._

"_Quick, bring Vithar's reward to the boy!" one of the onlooking warriors yelled as the men._

"_You, were brave Ovarr. Run back and escape. Do not look back nor worry what will befall me." The gudir said urging Ovarr to escape as he forfeited his life to the crowd of men who began to form up and walk towards the two with bloodlust in their eyes. Ovarr did not have the energy to run. He had spent it all during the duel and he merely shook his head, and accepted in his valiant stone, what was about to come, but he was not about to die without resistance._

_A cry rippled from one of the men in Skalk's ranks. Then came four more. The feathered ends of arrows could be seen protruding from the necks and sides of the felled men._

_"What? They're here? Retreat! We must report what has happened to Erik!" one of the warriors shouted as he began to run._

_In a panic the remainder of Skalk's group up and fled from the scene. Ovarr and Haakon looked around in the confusion, still not quite sure what had happened. They turned around to spot a group of armed men in bright armor armed with bows. Swords were sheathed at their sides and at the van stood a youth, in the brightest armor of all. He was slightly older than Ovarr, and tall. Tall enough to dwarf the gudir, a good span and a half taller than Ovarr for the matter. The pair_

_walked to their saviors to thank them. Before they could speak the youth spoke,_

"_Hello dear friends. I hope I am not late in lending my aid to this village."_

"_Sir, your aid came at a very opportune moment." The gudir replied._

"_Indeed, you have my thanks. Thank you for saving my life" Ovarr said._

"_I regret not coming here earlier. Allow me to entreat you. My men have salves and food to replenish you." The man then motioned to his men to procure food and bandages and medicine for Ovarr._

"_Might I know the honor of knowing the one who saved me and Haakon, the gudir of a nearby hamlet, from certain doom?" Ovarr inquired._

"_I am Sigor Beaumont, descendant of Voelsung."_

[1] The region where people had fled to escape Fafnir's clutches. Many of those who had not fled found themselves worked to death or abused in other less than savory manners. A large proportion of those who did not flee died, whether from exhaustion, executions, malnutrition, etc.

[2] a title for those who lead a community.

[3] gold. Gold is said to come from the fallen strands of Yngvi's hair.

[4] feet.

[5] A rite of passage ritual for boys. It is journey that boys must embark on to enter manhood. During the journey the boy in question must perform some notable act to show his worth as a man.

[6] Various deities that govern the ultimate fates of mortal beings. It is said that the moment one is born into this world, how and when one meets their demise is already determined.

* * *

Thank you for reading. I decided to release the first three sections of my piece in an attempt to test the waters. If reception's good releases will continue at a bi- or tri-weekly schedule depending on external factors, else I'll just tuck this story away and probably spend a year at the drawing board trying to write something else. Big thanks goes out to all who helped me with the editting process, especially my beta reader, ShiverintheLight. Many thanks for her continued patience with me.


	4. Chapter 3

Recommended Track: "The Lost Forest" by Keiichi Okabe.

* * *

"_Ah... it is great honor meeting you, Jarl__[1]__ of the Beaumonts" the elderly man said, bending his knees and kissing the ground before Sigor. _

_The young man frowned, slightly in response and said: "Please, there's no need for one such as yourself to bow before me. The one who deserves your praise is the one who fought for the free men and their families here." Sigor replied as he pointed to Ovarr sitting a short distance under a spruce. _

_He was nursing his horn of mead as cloth wrappings were being applied to his cuts. The salve had a noxious smell and bit as it was being applied but his face showed no sign of disagreement with the substance. Ovarr felt relaxed as could be, enjoying his alcohol whilst sharing a laugh amongst himself and the other men as they served him food. Sigor's eyes danced with amusement as he overheard a story the boy related to the men._

"_Being here reminds me of a very unfortunate day when I was an unruly boy. I had climbed a fir as high as you are" Ovarr said measuring out one the men's heights as he told the story._

"_A great height for a small boy. And I could not find my way down. I had looked 'round and glanced at the ground in a panic. Then I spotted a bush..." He then tapped the ends of the same, bemused man's beard. _

"_So, I took wing to the cerulean cloth and landed in this bush thinking 'Thank Eir for this bush'; unfortunately the hairs of the bush were not so kind to my bottom. I appeared to have acquired a green beard on my bottom from that encounter for a short time." _

_When Ovarr finished he and the men shared chortles of satisfaction and contentment._

_Sigor then approached him and sat next to him. At this gesture Ovarr simply flashed a grin at the willow-eyed youth._

"_I see you've recovered, in quite the lively fashion might I add. What is your name?" _

"_I am Ovarr, son of Gantyr. I hail from Sappula." _

"_You're quite far then. How long have you been travelling alone?"_

"_Two moons shy of a year." _

"_I see, so Ovarr, allow me to make you this offer: would you care to travel with me and my companions? The Wyrmskols have been causing trouble for my family and the lands for years. The situation has deteriorated recently: they've grown bolder, harassing and encroaching our borders with increasing frequency." _

"_Why? Does the King not have the means to control the jarls? Surely then he is a King in name only if that is the case."_

"_The Wyrmskols are amongst the most eminent of the fifteen district controlling clans in Frankreich. Opposing them at the moment would not be wise. With the skirmishes between the Anatolien Empire and Ptolemaeus, most Jarls, like myself, only have enough men to patrol our lands. The rest of them were sent south to bolster Ptolemaean forces in case of a full-blown Anatolien offense." _

"_Then why are they not in the same predicament as you?"_

"_The Wyrmskol armies are vast. Far greater in scope than any of the individual clans, and I dare say, even the King's. Despite dividing their forces they still have leftovers to strong-arm others with." _

"_I see."_

"_Will you join me, if only temporarily as a hithmar__[2]__?"_

"_I think I will, given the events that transpired today." _

"_Good, good and with that your drengir is over. I have some gifts to give you when we return to my hall." _

"Well seems we've happened on the forest before my story was finished." Ovarr said, though he saw some disappointment in his daughter's eyes at this.

"Don't worry, I'll continue it on the way back."

The two stood at the entrance to the forest. Many of the evergreens in sight had become an assortment of yellows, reds, and purples. The ends were wilted and curled but at least the trees were still alive. The drought in recent times had not touched Skaennin as severely as it had other parts, but still it was still felt as evidenced by the diminished sounds of life in the forest.

The pair had to wandered about the forest for a few hours before they happened upon the tracks of rabbits. The sun was still shone and was high in the sky but within another passage of a few hours it would be sunset. Father and daughter looked around to find any vegetation or signs of disturbance. Taking time to look closely for signs, Elva found a small patch of dirt with a very small shrub. Crouching down, she examined the shrub's leaves. It seemed something nibbled at them quite recently judging by the color of the remainders of the leaves. She motioned to Ovarr to come see what she had found.

"Ah, perhaps we'll find something nearby. The little rodents always seem to gather together somewhere" Ovarr commented.

"Aye they shouldn't be not too far now"

The pair carefully walked looking for more signs of the rabbit they had been tracking. After walking a third of a _rothst__[3]_, Ovarr spotted a small rabbit by a tree stump. The rabbit was mostly brown with a few speckles of white. The rabbit was quite far away and given the time of year, both knew not to waste this chance at food. Ovarr made some hand motions, pointing Elva to where the rabbit was. The rabbit was roughly forty fathrs away. Too far for a reliable shot.

Elva readied her bow and notched an arrow into the string. It was a routine they made a few years ago. Her father would help her find prey to hunt and then he would go forage the forest for various fruits, berries, or wild mushrooms. When she was finished, or if she had given up, they would meet again at the forest entrance before sunset and walk home.

The brunette began the process of stalking the rabbit. It was a slow, methodical process: Elva weaved angles at the rabbit, never walking nor looking directly at it. She looked off to the side or at the ground away from the rabbit, keeping it in view with her peripheral vision. Steps made while stalking prey, like this rabbit, had to be made deliberately and carefully. It was imperative to avoid making any unnecessary noise as it would spook game and end the hunt. While Elva treaded cautiously, the rabbit would occasionally bend its head and sniff the air. Then he mighthop around to consume some piece of foliage or sniff the ground.

After the painstaking effort, the distance between her and her prey was now fifteen fathrs. The perfect distance for an attempt. The landscape was soundless and now Elva slowly, drew the bowstring back. She took note that there was no breeze. _Good,_ _I have no need to adjust for winds_. She aimed the bow slightly above the rabbit. After a brief pause she inhaled, then released the string at the same moment she exhaled.

The arrow flew and slammed into the rabbit's side. The rabbit gave a shrill scream into otherwise still air. Elva began her sprint towards the still alive creature while the rabbit gave a few pitiful flops. When Elva did catch up she immediately wrung its neck. The rabbit's scream had ended any further opportunity for hunting. With that in mind, Elva removed the arrow from the rabbit and slit the rabbits throat with her knife to let the blood flow. When the blood was mostly drained she laid down the arrow and the carcass on the ground and gathered a small bit of snow and ice to crush. The mixture became watery and she used it to wash the blood off the arrow and knife as well the rabbit's soiled fur. She put the arrow back in her quiver, knife in its sheathe, and the carcass into a pack. Elva observed there was still a good amount of sun time left when she finished but it would probably be dark, if not sunset by the time she returned home with her father.

After walking for forty minutes she was at the forest entrance. Her father had not returned yet from foraging so she took the time to stare at the path the thin clouds in the sky took. After some time the man returned with a small pouch.

"Here, what think you on this for supper?" Ovarr opened the pouch and took out a mushroom. The mushroom was a milk-white mixed with a bit of yellow. It sat in his hand, the cap covering his palm. The underside of cap had lines in it like a fine wrinkled cloth.

Ovarr then returned the mushroom to his pouch and the father-daughter pair began walking home.

"I think we'll all be enjoying them, enough that they'll return to the ground rather soon" Elva said as they walked on trail.

"Ill-mannered girl, I think your mother would have my head if she were to hear what you just uttered" Ovarr said in imitation fear of Eyfa's imagined outburst with a shiver.

"Father, please continue the story since you said you would."

"With pleasure."

"So after accepting Sigor's offer and thanking Haakon for hosting me, I marched with the group to the Jarl's hall. It was a five-day march but when I entered the hall we were served a sumptuous feast. Meats and greenery of all kinds welcomed me. The ale maids generously served me their drink, and the hearth warmed the hall. While we feasted Sigor personally gifted me a new shield, mail, and horned helm. The man was also an enemy of gold, breaking armlets and other pieces to distribute amongst his men. Remember the stories I've told you before?"

"Like the lake with singing waters or the four fingered bandit?" Elva asked.

"Yes, the one who lead us in those adventures was Sigor. The gallant warrior in all my stories was always him though I called him different names."

"What was he really like then? Since you always described him differently each time you tell me those stories"

"Well Sigor was as tall as I am, forest eyed, handsome, and gallant. His hair was thick like rope and as brown as the bark of the spruces. An impressive man fit to lead others without a doubt. Now about six years after I initially became a Beaumont hithmar, tensions between the Wyrmskol's and Beaumont's began to flare again."

_Spring of the year 629, Sigor's Hall, Odense; Lyon; _

"_Jarl Beaumont has need of you, lord Ovarr" a thrall said conveying a message to Ovarr who was outside enjoying the sights of morning spring life. The countryside was vibrant with new life after the snows of winter. Ovarr wore a simple tunic and trousers, and some boots. Nothing more, nothing less. He wasn't one to indulge in excesses. _

"_Let us go then to the lord" Ovarr said, allowing the thrall to lead him to Sigor's hall. _

_When they reached the heavy doors of the home Ovarr greeted the guards. The guards acknowledged him and opened the door. _

_Inside, Ovarr walked past well polished rooms with walls of polished stone and well crafted wood. He finally came to the feast hall, which was the most opulent part of the home. _

_The feast hall had all forms of weaponry on display. Spears, shields, and swords hung up on the walls, shining beautifully as the light from the hearth fire touched it. In the back there was a tapestry depicting the triumph of the Five against Fafnir. Sigor who sat, at one end of a table, beneath the tapestry got up to walk over to Ovarr. The man now stood eye to eye with Sigor's piercing forest green eyes. Six years had passed since the time they met in the fields near a hamlet. _

_Ovarr was an exemplary warrior: Tall, fierce, and brave, however he was no fool. He understood the roles and expectations conferred to him by his station as well as the unsaid duties. Ovarr, in addition to his new height, had gained three punds__[4]__. His face was less boyish and sported a beard, which he took care to clean and maintain at medium length. He also recently married. Until a year ago he was a bachelor, but at Sigor's request, near behest, he married Eyfa, the Jarl's first cousin. She was beautiful and cultured, used to the comforts that wealth had allowed her, but rather peevish at times. Ovarr frankly did not hold much love for her but it was great honor to become apart of Sigor's family and he could not refuse nor risk shaming the Beaumonts._

_Sigor, for the most part, hardly changed with the passage of time. His hair had grown a longer and he did not look as fresh faced as before, but he was still young. He too grew a beard and looked sturdier than before. His apparel was about the same as it had been six years ago,: a mail coat worn over a tunic, a cloak wrapped around his neck, trousers, a girdle, high shoes, and a helm. The cloak was a bright red that fluttered with every movement. The helm and girdle were the most ornate parts. Both had been crafted with care by a master craftsmen. The girdle's buckle and helm were shaped to resemble a wolf. More elaborate than before but nothing compared to the dizzying garb of the Langobarden upper class. _

"_You have need of me Sigor?" Ovarr asked. _

"_Indeed, I have. Come sit at my right hand. We have much to discuss." Sigor said and waved for Ovarr to sit next to him. Ovarr took note of his somber face. Something undoubtedly going on since he was the only one of Sigor's inner circle in the room. _

"_What sort of business is it that makes you so… uneasy?" Ovarr inquired with knitted brows, wishing to know what kind of situation had arisen to make his lord so tense. _

"_It's the Wyrmskols again." Sigor replied with a huff._

"_They lay claim to our lands again, but this time they delivered a message to us with an ultimatum. If we do not cede Lyon freely then they wish to meet us in shield-ding at the plains of Ringmere. They've arranged for the Nodines to oversee that none of us harm the local populace in the area. Sham it is though, those Nodines are almost certainly in league with Wyrmskols. King Knut has also given his approval of the contest. He fears them, but he also owes payment for their favor to him six years ago. If we battle at Ringmere. If we do not accept the terms then they will bring storm of iron to Lyon." A measure of desperation entered Sigor's voice as he spoke. _

"_I see. I shall go home and help you avenge Starkad's sons." Ovarr said in his bright eyed ardor. _

"_You will not, Ovarr. I want you to take my daughter and guard her. Be sure that no Wyrmskol finds her. Take her to the countryside in Metz district. Though she's only in her second year of life she is a strong girl. She will survive this trip and can endure many more if Metz proves risky. I will send for you if I can after the meeting with Helfden and his clan, else assume I am no longer of this plane. If you've need of bright metal for this journey then take it. I have gold prepared for you. Please, I beg of you, to look after my daughter and cousin." Sigor said in a tone of seriousness regarding the grim reality that faced him. _

"_My fellow warrior, I am a thane__[5]__ of yours! I am sworn to follow you through rings of fire and storms of iron. I can not allow myself the shame of abandoning you in time of battle. To die with my jarl is an glory and honor I can not ask more for." Ovarr's emotions rose to a high point with the request that his lord asked of him. The thane began to grow pale as silence settled in the air. Ovarr grew ever more uncomfortable by the second while Sigor's jaw was locked and his teeth clenched. When Sigor relaxed his jaw, he leaned over to Ovarr and spoke:_

"_Ovarr, as my most trusted champion, I endow this task to you because you are the greatest warrior I have. You will ensure my daughter's safety and allow me to attend this sword assembly without fear for her future. To defend the honor of my clan and family with knowledge that someone will look after them. That is why it must be you. I saw your valor and courage that day six years ago in the border village. You were a boy fighting against an well-seasoned warrior. You did it with wisdom and overcame him inspite of your shortcomings. There is no better alternative to me, nor will I accept any other." _

_Ovarr fell speechless at the task laid before him. He knew when Sigor would not change his mind and this was one of those circumstances. There was no chance for Ovarr to come with him to Ringmere. He slowly turned his head to look off to the side, his mouth ajar. _

_Sigor rested his right hand on Ovarr's shoulder and reassured him, saying: _

"_Do not despair Ovarr, I will bring brandish Tyrfing and feed the ravens with the corpses of my enemies." _

_How I wish I could believe, but you seek to ride straight into the the jaws of wolves. _

_Ovarr didn't comforted but he had regained enough of his composure to face his friend. He felt words flowing through him. _

"_If you make an oath to me to do as you have said then I will guard her."_

"_I swear to the Gods, who bestowed Tyrfing and the Fire Emblem to my ancestors that I, Sigor Beaumont, will go to the plains called Ringmere to do battle with the Wyrmskols. If I should survive this sword noise, I will seek Ovarr and reunite with my daughter." _

_Sigor then took off the ruby ring he wore on his hand and kissed it before handing it to Ovarr who took it, still pale and shaking at his lord's decision. _

"_Here is proof of my promise, now go and do as I have asked of you."_

_Ovarr then walked out of the feast hall with Sigor's ring. Color returned to him and a determination to fulfill the task before him. Two thralls came to him right outside the feast hall. One had two skins filled with precious metals and stones and the other carried a child. She was very small, but she had the same willow eyes as Sigor and her strands were thick and strong like his. She was drooling on the thrall. Fast asleep, she looked utterly peaceful unaware of what was going to happen. _

"So, I took the little girl and my wife along with provisions of food, cloth, and a horse. We rode for nine days to Metz district. There I sought the house of Fidvamne to provide us a simple farm to live on. Less than a moon after, I heard about a battle at the plains of Ringmere. Sigor had died along with many of the clansmen and retainers of the Beaumonts. I heard a rumor, that a young wyrmskol warrior named Hlith had cut down Sigor with his own sword. The pity I felt for the girl, who had already lost her mother and now her father. How cruel the norns can be."

Ovarr then reached into his pouch and handed Elva a ring.

"What a beautiful ring. The stone sparkles in the light like the flickers of a flame." Elva said as she examined the aged ring, in awe of its beauty.

"This is my third and final gift to you. The ring I took as oath from your true-born father, Sigor Beaumont."

[1] A regional ruler.

[2] A follower of a jarl or King. Hithmar's support their leaders in all endeavors.

[3] About a mile

[4] About 25 pounds. Each pund is roughly 3.75 kg

[5] A retainer in the inner circle of a Jarl

* * *

A/N: Next Chapter or the chapter after will likely be delayed in light of real life trouble I've been having in the past 2 weeks along with the added pressures of school on top of it. Once again, I extend a thank you to my betareader ShvierintheLight for supporting me in this endeavor. Thank you for taking the time to work with what I've sent, I really appreciate it.


End file.
